Tuesday, January 27, 2015

What is traveling for?Looking for a piece on earthlooking for a peace placeI'm AmericanI wouldn't even know howSlam poetry about my ancestorsThe Holy Land is about as big as NJMy best friend sister wife she's Jewish, Montclair NJthis land is her land with a Haifa UncleI was just a spy in the Jews-only desertI am also even a spy in the NM desertI never remember the stories and I have to ask again and again, embarrassed

driving through Galisteo with momWhere The Valencias Lived In The Late 1600scluster of old houses stone wood adobeThe little churchthe dogs behind fencesno one around

Juanita my great great grandmotherwas taken away by who? A Valencia? A pueblo Indian? at 15 years old?scooped up off her family's ranch to be a bride I just picture my self at 15 in a pioneer postureCan you imagine being taken away on horseback at 15my mom asksYesI think I would've accepted anything at 15 years oldI thought I wanted to get married at 15 years oldI'm ready to get married nowto live in my ancestral peace desertthe NM oneyellow grass grown around brittle stoneswe don't speak much in the carI ask about the cactithose are chollathe cholla are black because it's winter hunched over like vulture piles with yellow flowersand there are black cowsso black they look like holes cut out of the fieldpretty thingsDusty tinsel of roadside memorialsa ghostly nativity scene in white christmas lights

ask more about our family with land and livestockI want dirt and horsesa porch to an endless rugged scapeThere is even a historic saloon in Lamy called Legal Tender Saloon!my favorite termSlam poetry about my ancestorswhere do I really come from I'm always stuck in the cracksI wear my home in my heartpledge allegiance to My Bedspeak through other people's signsIt's all on foot to meit's all walking through it

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Any place can become an ugly placeUgly places can become prettyThe young pink bathroom becomes gray and lazyThe tiles used to be wet candyThere was an elegant little forestWhen the leaves all drop you see how short the distance is through the forest to the trucks on a roadI like the trucks and the forestI remind myselfI like the tiles and the trucks and the forestIf I were a surgeon would I be unable to focus at workLike all the other jobsWould I still get that feeling like there was nothing behind my faceWould I forget what I was doing with my handsI have lots of dreams about my schoolI don't have any fantasies about what school can be anymoreI want a car (I don't even know what a car looks like)But I have a fantasy about a car